


I'll be your Babe

by Toilet (TOlLET)



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Blow Jobs, Crying, Face-Fucking, Hurt/Comfort, I started this off with a bit of fighting but the fic took a totally different direction, M/M, Post-Break Up, Recreational Drug Use, Semi-Public Sex, they're college age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 04:24:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13333440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TOlLET/pseuds/Toilet
Summary: Kenny and Craig smoke a joint behind Skeeter'sCraig cries, then gets blown, then kinda cries again.





	I'll be your Babe

 

“Do it.” His voice is hoarse, but his eyes are  _ glowing _ , flashing manically like the blood glistening in his teeth. Craig’s knuckles are white, he’s gripping Kenny’s collar so hard- pinning him to the wall, and it should be threatening but Kenny’s fucking  _ thrilled _ .

 

“Fuck you.” Craig shoves him one last time and backs off.

 

Kenny laughs, and it’s hollow, disappointed, because he knows the moment’s passed. 

 

He picks up his lighter and what’s left of his soggy joint, knocked out of his hands moments ago by their tussle. Craig is checking his phone, dark brows furrowed. His joint had miraculously stayed intact, and even remained lit as he took a drag. 

 

“So much for smoking my own.” Kenny flicks the spoiled roach into a patch of dirty snow. He sidles up to Craig, and plucks the joint from between his fingers, taking a hit before Craig can protest.

 

“...” Kenny isn’t looking, but he can practically hear Craig scowling at him. Whatever. He deserves at least another few puffs for the bruise and the blood in his mouth. 

 

Craig, ever the strong, silent type, just grumbles and pulls a cigarette out of his pocket. 

 

“You ever gonna stop being such a little bitch about Tweek?” He hears an undignified noise come out of Craig. 

 

“Stop talking about it like that. It’s not like that.” He’s monotonous as ever, but Kenny knows his tells, and knows that he’s  _ edged _ about this. “He just said he needs some space.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what all the girls say when they don’t want to hit it anymore.” Craig stiffens, back rigid against the brick wall of the alleyway. 

 

“Fuck off, Kenny. I know what you’re trying to do.” Kenny’s finished Craig’s joint now, and tosses it over his shoulder. 

 

“Yeah? What’s that?” He turns to Craig now with a smirk, tongue darting over his freshly split lip in anticipation for more.

 

Craig grits his teeth and returns a humorless grin. He pushes himself off the wall and faces Kenny.

 

“You just want to rile me up, ‘cause you’re a sick fuck and you get your rocks off on it.” 

 

_ Whoa, when did he get so close?  _ Kenny thinks inwardly- and he can’t stop the shit eating grin that spreads across his face. 

 

“Fuck, that’s hot when you say it.” Craig rolls his eyes, and he’s pressed up close enough to Kenny that it’s distracting.

 

“What’s wrong with you, dude? I knew you were fucked up as a kid but...Wow, should I be worried?” Kenny snorts.

 

“We were  _ all _ fucked up as kids. Especially the blonde kids. Have you ever noticed that?” He lifts an eyebrow. “Butters, me...hell, Bebe grew up a fuckin’ slut, she’s hot as fuck but she’s crazy- and Tweek. He’s probably more fucked up than me.” 

 

Visible irritation flits across Craig’s face.

 

“Can we stop. Fucking talking about him. Please.” Craig sighs and snatches his hat off to run a hand through ink-black hair. He takes a last drag on his cigarette and puts it out against the wall.

 

Kenny shrugs and raises his hands apologetically. 

 

“Sorry bro, force of habit. I know you called me up today saying you just wanted weed, but I kinda figured you were trying to forget about your boyfriend, too.”

 

“Right, and that’s why you keep bringing him up.” Craig deadpans. 

 

“You ever heard of exposure therapy? Tough love?”

 

“You’re a fucking asshole.” Kenny grins his agreement.

 

“That means you’re fucking an asshole.” Craig rolls his eyes, because  _ holy shit _ , _ how had he not seen that coming _ . But he’s got nothing smart to say, because Kenny is intuitive as always. He’d hit the nail right on the head. 

 

Weed could make him forget, momentarily, yes. But in his Tweek-less state as of late, perhaps he  _ had _ been hoping for more than ‘friendly’ company. Craig hated to admit it, but he was lonely.

 

“It’s cool,” Kenny says, picking up on Craig’s hesitation without missing a beat. “I’m good with being your rebound fuck, just so you know. I get it, you’re still hoping he’ll come crawling back to you, but your balls are probably as blue as your coat.” He snickers at his own joke.

 

“I’ll be your babe, Craig. You know I left that offer on the table since the last time this happened.” Kenny idly lifts his hand to stroke the seam of Craig’s pocket, threading his finger through his belt loop to pull his hips flush against his own. 

 

“Isn’t that what you want?”

 

Craig’s face heats up as the memories surface readily, hungrily, eagerly. The ‘last time’ had been...after graduation. Beer, weed, cigarettes-- all the happiness that money could buy could not fill the hole Tweek had left when he’d gone to college. 

 

But Craig was happy for him, right? Craig had been the one to encourage him, steadied his hand as he wrote those scholarship essays-- picking up the slack that Tweek had to leave at the coffee shop just so his parents would get off his back- and Craig had done all of that, willingly.

 

And it’s not like their breakup wasn’t mutual. It’s not like they hadn’t talked about all the options.

 

Craig’s mind betrays his heart, and the memory of Tweek is shattered by the memory of the night after, after Craig’s eyes were dried, but rimmed red, red, red with both tears and getting higher than a kite on Kenny’s couch.

 

Kenny gave a damn good blowjob. Like the kid’s throat was made for it. 

 

Craig’s breath catches and he’s hurtled back to the present, because Kenny’s taken the initiative of kissing the corner of Craig’s mouth. 

 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Kenny asks again, all smug, all bravado because he  _ knows  _ he’s right. His fingers find their way under the hem of Craig’s coat, and Craig lets out a hiss against where he’s-  _ When did he start kissing Kenny?  _

 

He grunts, because Kenny’s moving too fast, already undoing Craig’s jeans, and Craig wants to tell him to stop, slow down,  _ there’s no rush, Babe--  _ But- fuck, he chokes back a groan because this isn’t Tweek- and they’re not in his dorm room, or on Craig’s bed.

 

This is Kenny, who likes it rough. Kenny, who’s sinking down onto his heels in the alley outside of a dive bar in downtown South Park to give Craig some wicked head. Kenny, who’s been his on and off friend since the fourth grade, and on and off fuck buddy since tenth...

 

_ We really  _ are  _ all fucked up _ . Craig thinks to himself, and grabs a fistful of Kenny’s blonde hair. 

 

“Fuck…Kenny, I fucking love your mouth.” He grits out eloquently.

 

Kenny may have misheard, though, because he lets his hands drop to rest on Craig’s thighs, fingers hooked gently in his pockets, and he’s looking up at Craig, pretty mouth and throat all slack and hot and wet all around Craig’s cock as if to say  _ ‘You love fucking my mouth?’  _

 

“Damn right I do,” Replies Craig to nothing in particular, and lets himself go. 

 

It’s not an easy feat either, to swallow all of Craig’s healthy length, much less let it curve all the way down and in.

 

Kenny was either born without a gag reflex, or trained himself through years of sexual activity not to have one, but whatever the cause, it’s doing Craig downright  _ dirty _ \- and it’s not fair, because he doesn’t last more than another minute against Kenny’s tight throat. 

 

Pleasure builds, churning and tightening in his stomach and he’s a fucking  _ goner. _

Craig’s rhythmic movements stutter, hands fisted in tawny blonde hair and he groans out the most frustrated orgasm he’s had since he was fifteen. 

 

And Kenny swallows it all.

 

“Fuck, babe…” He’s sitting pretty on his haunches, looking up at Craig with those big blue eyes like he’s waiting for feedback.

 

Craig just gazes lazily down at him, head tilted ever so slightly back, a slack, barely-there smile on his lips. Kenny straightens up, pushing up off the wall and dusting off the seat of his pants. 

 

He looks back at Craig, raising an eyebrow at his silence.

 

“What, cat got your tongue?” Kenny smirks. “You all.... _ tuckered _ out?” 

 

Craig cringes and punches his friend lightly on the shoulder. In silence, they regard each other, and Craig can’t help but feel the duality of guilt and…affection stir in his chest.

 

_ Blonde hair, blue eyes _ ,  _ pale, pale skin... _ but Kenny is  _ warmth  _ and  _ confidence  _ everywhere Tweek is washed out, jittery, and nervous. The color of his eyes is ever so slightly deeper, his hair ever so slightly darker. He doesn’t realize before he’s reached out to tilt Kenny’s chin toward him, pressing a kiss to his soft lips as if to compare the difference- to the muscle memory of Tweek. 

 

When he’s close like this, Kenny smells like cheap soap and smoke. He smells nothing like coffee and nothing like hand sanitizer. But he’s solid, and warm, and Tweek is far far away, and  _ God,  _ Kenny feels like  _ sunshine _ in Craig’s arms.

 

Craig just fucking holds him. For a timeless moment, until Kenny clears his throat from where he’s tucked his head into the crook of Craig’s neck.

 

“Buddy, I know you’re sad and all, but my back is starting to hurt and my ass is wet and cold as fuck. Also, I could use another joint, since you fucked mine up.” 

 

He doesn’t stop Kenny when he slips out from under his arms. Kenny blinks up at him.

 

“Hey man...you good?” Craig didn’t even realize, but he’s got a single tear rolling down his cheek. He swipes at it, erasing the evidence save for a tinge of red on the tip of his nose and the rim of his eyes.

 

“Yeah, dude, let’s go back to my place. My mom’s out of town.” He turns away, shoulders squared. He feels hollow.

 

“Well, fuck! Why the hell were we out here then?” Kenny gripes, and kicks off the wall to follow Craig.

 

“Hey, Kenny.” 

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“You’re welcome, babe.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi pls be kind I haven't ever posted a fic on ao3 <:3c  
> my twitter is @peeshys if u wanna come scream at me about crenny or creek 
> 
> SORRY THERE'S BARELY ANY PORN IN THIS AND THAT MY PARAGRAPHS ARE SO WEIRDLY SPACED   
> I'm sorry


End file.
